heart's best blood she gave it, and her heart still bleeds to think she is forgotten."
Then they began to tell the story of the old dame's sacrifices, all the seventy times seven that she had made for the sake of the maiden, and Olga grieved as she listened, that she could have been so ungrateful. Then she brought the
Prince to hear the story of the strange, strange flowers, and when he had heard, together they went to the lowly cottage and fetched the old Flax-spinner to the castle, there to live out all her days in ease and contentment.
"See now," she whispered to the Oak at parting, but sturdily he held his ground, persisting, "Thou wouldst
have been forgotten, save for that miracle of bloom."
And still the flower we call BLEEDING-HEART blooms on by cottage walls and castle gardens, to waken all the world to grateful memories. And ever it doth bring to mind the lonely hearts that bleed because they are forgotten, and
all they sacrificed for love's sweet sake, to give us happiness.